


Blame it on the Night

by orphan_account



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Also hinted loser kink, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Hwang Hyunjin, Fuckbuddies, Hyunjin has rich boy syndrome, Jisung cures it with his dick, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Teasing, Top Han Jisung | Han, crush disguised with horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26791228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Knowing something won’t happen is one thing, hoping it might is another, but wishing that things might change? That’s probably where Jisung starts to get his feelings hurt.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin
Comments: 24
Kudos: 442





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this with 3 years of community college experience and delivering pizza to a university dorm, like, once. Also hi i'm back.

“Seriously, I should’ve applied somewhere else,” Jisung says. “UCLA, maybe. Or hell, NYU!”

“You and I both know you wouldn’t be able to get in anywhere that needs a 3.0 minimum, Jisung,” Felix doesn’t look up at the screen as he continues unpacking. The Discord image of his hands are nothing but gyrating static from how fast he’s folding his clothes. “And what happened to your enthusiasm? I thought you said you loved it here.”

“Oh no, I like the university fine. What I don’t like is its apparent lack of people who are hot and into skinny asian dudes that major in Human Resources. I didn’t lose my virginity just so it could grow back again, Felix, it’s time for me to _roll_. This is supposed to be the start of the new Jisung, and the new Jisung wants—”

“Yeah, okay stop right there,” Felix interrupts, causing Jisung to pause mid-sentence and his pacing back and forth in front of his desk. “You start getting weird when you start talking in third perspective.”

Jisung dejectedly takes a seat with a sigh, and he watches Felix follow soon after when he grabs his laptop perched on his bunk bed and shakily sets it onto his desk. The quality clears up in an instant, and Jisung can finally make out a face from the once distorting pixels.

“What about Seungmin, you did invite him to the dorm party right?” Felix asks once he seats himself onto his squeaky gaming chair. “He was nice.”

Seungmin was a lot more than just nice. Jisung met him at their Freshman Orientation, eyeing him the moment Seungmin leaned over to take a few large gulps from the water fountain; something so miniscule yet oddly hot that it was enough for Jisung to lock onto him as a newly selected target. Small talk became exchanging phone numbers and looking over each other’s course schedules to see whenever they were free. That’s when the biggest setback presents itself in the form of a shared Gender Studies class. If their inevitable hook up turns out for the worst, (Jisung going soft multiple times thanks to the classic performance anxiety, Seungmin having a decked out BDSM basement, Felix somehow getting roped into a threesome) they’d be left with an uncomfortable and complicated situation of having to look at each other in the eye for the whole semester.

Too bad Jisung has a penchant for uncomfortable and complicated.

“Sure, yeah,” Jisung says it more to himself than Felix. “But it’s probably just gonna be a one time thing.”

Before Felix could reply, the sound of a short sharp knock echoed throughout Jisung’s room. Jisung swiveled his chair to the side. “Hey, there’s someone at my door.”

“Go get it,” Felix says. “I’ll come over once I’m done unpacking and finish my discussion posts, okay?”

“Alright,” Jisung clicks out of full screen before he does a quick look over at his video window to fix a hair strand. “I’ll text you when I’m done.”

Jisung presses the button on the monitor to kill the machine, plunging the room into silence that was no longer punctuated by Felix’s voice and the whirring fan in his laptop case. Jisung hopped to his socked feet, almost losing his footing twice as he skidded to the door. He swung it open, yelling out a cheerful “Afternoon!”—

—and came face-to-face with the most mouth-watering view in the history of mankind.

For real. All those complaints about the lack of eye candy? Gone. Forgotten. Proven unfounded and scattered to the winds by this broad-shouldered, pony-tailed, perfectly dewy-skinned apparition.

“Do you know where Jeongin left to?” The hot guy asks, and it’s almost as if the words shoot right through Jisung’s ear and out through the other. The only thing that filters in is the smooth, bell-like tones in his voice. Jisung can only gape at him.

The guy’s eyebrows draw in together before he moves his head to look behind Jisung. His eyes scan the rest of the room while the muscle cords in his neck start to stand out. Oh Jesus. “You’re Jisung, right?”

“Right,” Jisung says, and then, because he was apparently a moron in the face of true beauty, “Jeongin?”

“Yeah. Tall kid, blue hair, smiles really wide because he just got his braces off? Sound familiar?”

“Jeongin,” Jisung iterates slowly, scratching at his jaw. “My roommate.” 

“Do you know where he is or not?” He looks like he’s about to bash either his own or Jisung’s head into a wall. The latter option seemed somewhat more likely at this point.

Mercifully, Jisung’s language areas decide to come back online before he embarasses himself even further. “I think he might’ve gone down to the dining hall,” he says, adding a casual “Sorry, bro,” to make up for his earlier uncoolness.

The guy doesn’t look all that unphased, doesn’t even say much as a bye before heading his way down the hall once he received the information he needed. Jisung closes the door slowly while clenching his eyes shut at the sudden wave of cringe that hits him because above all else, Jisung’s self-sabotage game is depressingly strong. 

* * *

Jisung finishes the rest of the lukewarm beer clutched in his grip, tasting sour and plastic when it creeps down his throat. Unsure if he should just toss the cup or go back in the kitchen for a refill, he settles on awkwardly holding it until he spots Felix emerging from the bathroom. The party wasn’t in full swing yet; music was playing at a low volume, people—mostly other freshmen—still trickling into the lounge. Chan the RA hovered awkwardly near the fridge. 

“Bro,” Felix gestures at the now empty cup in Jisung’s hands. “I thought I told you to hold my drink.”

“I did,” Jisung affirms. “I held it for 15 minutes before I considered what’s best for you. And before I got thirsty.”

“You’re unbearable.”

“You say that now, but you’ll look back to this and think, ‘man, Jisung was so caring when he went out of his way to make sure that I didn't die at my 8am Philosophy class.’” Jisung’s not expecting the arm that’s placed over his shoulder from behind, slim and lithe. It’s Seungmin’s, covered in a warm, striped sweater sleeve despite the stuffiness and heat that comes along with a packed lounge. 

"Speaking of morning classes," Seunmin says over the growing music. "Did you forget that we got a 10am tomorrow?" 

“Is this your way of taking his side?” Jisung asks in mock offense, nose scrunching when Felix happily extends his hand.

“Felix,” He introduces.

“Seungmin,” His grip on Felix’s hand is firm and warm, before the arm around Jisung points an acknowledging finger. “You were the one at orientation wearing that Cage the Elephant t-shirt.”

“Oh man, you recognized it?” And Felix beams because he loves telling this story. “I stole it from a rip-off merch table.”

* * *

Jisung starts to feel that early buzz settle into his head and his body, that thrumming that comes like a slow tide, a few drinks before drunk. He’s out of it, in a dazed, almost giggly way, and he’s glad that Seungmin and Felix have done most of the talking throughout the night. Jisung is content enough to play with Seungmin’s hand that still hasn’t left his shoulder.

“Ah,” The fading flush of Felix’s chest and the mess of his hair is the spitting image of the aftermath of their Grad Night back in high school. “Who was at your door by the way?”

“Just some guy looking for my roommate.” Jisung drops his head into the curve of Seungmin’s neck, just because he’s warm and just because Jisung is allowed to. “Some really hot guy. Whoa. For the record.”

“It’s a wonder why I don’t see him out here tonight with you.” There was no cut or venom to Seungmin’s words. No underlying sense of betrayal in his tone of voice or body language. He was joking. Seungmin was unfazed and grinning out of amusement while sipping at the beer Felix had brought him.

“I’m pretty sure he wanted to bite my head off. I wasn’t that helpful when he asked where Jeongin was.”

Seungmin hums. “What’d he look like?”

Jisung can probably write a six-page essay describing that 8th wonder of a man, but right now, he’s got to figure out how to hammer it down into one conclusion sentence. “Long hair, blonde. Shit ton of jewelry on him too.”

“That might be Hyunjin,” Seungmin says. “I’ve seen him with Jeongin at—”

“Freshman orientation?” Jisung interrupts. “Dude, do you remember every single person that was there?”

“Only the ones that make an impression.” It would’ve sounded suggestive if it weren’t Seungmin who said it, a pick-up line that follows up with intentional gazes and touches that would’ve made Jisung momentarily forget what they’ve been talking about. But Seungmin isn’t flirty. Seungmin is teasing and button pushing, straightforward and unapologetic. Maybe that’s why Jisung isn’t head over heels over him right about now. 

“And he’s already well-known,” He continues. “He’s a fresh off the boat that only hooks up with people who make more money than what his parents do. There’s a whole thing going on about him going to Venice over the summer and screwing every single person he could over there ”

Felix lets out a low whistle “Wish that were me.” And he hands out more plastic cups filled with keg beer as if he were getting paid by the hour to do so.

Three beers later, and Jisung is in the corner of the room with Seungmin’s body right against his own. The drag of Seungmin’s jeans, the warmth of skin on skin, but Jisung realizes with sudden and unexpected clarity that he couldn’t stop thinking about dainty, long fingers and a single mole under intensely light brown eyes.

* * *

Jisung woke up to a too-bright room and the buzz of a conversation. Drifting into consciousness, he became aware of two things: 1) his dull thudding headache and 2) the annoyance bubbling hot in the pit of his stomach. Which, admittedly, wasn’t all that fair. Jeongin was a great roommate, tidy and laid-back; Jisung was so much better off with him than with some guy who would leave his pubes in the shower drain and never bothered to air the place after jerking off. But still, having people over at ass o’clock in the morning after a dorm party? Seriously?

Jisung was about to roll onto his other side and throw his phone across the room to make a point until Jeongin says, “Hyunjin, I told you to stop hooking up with him.”

“I wasn’t going to but he came over last night,” A voice whines. “I didn’t mean to pass out after.”

Hyunjin. Hyunjin is in Jisung’s room. While he’s asleep. _And_ reeking of sweat and stale beer. Fuck, did he even have clothes on? Not that it really mattered—he was completely burrowed in his bed sheets like a giant, smelly burrito. That’s probably even worse. 

“I can’t believe I missed out on meeting people because you decided to get dicked down on a school night.”

The rustle of fabric, Jeongin’s small whine tinged with annoyance, then Hyunjin saying: “I can set you up with someone if that’s what you want, Minho’s kind of interested in you.”

Jeongin made the same noise he made when Jisung left a half-empty bowl of cereal next to his bed and the milk turned sour overnight. “I don’t want your sloppy seconds. Besides, you have that weird one-sided thing for him.”

“I do not, he’s a business major,” Jisung can practically hear the disgust in Hyunjin’s voice.

“And? We both know you kind of got a thing for sleazy,” Sounds of a scuffle; Jeongin stifling his laughter. “Stop, stop, we’ll wake up my roommate!” Softer, more seriously: “But seriously, don’t ditch me like that again.”

“I won’t. Now am I walking you to class or not?” Keys rattling, the door opening and closing. Then, blissful silence.

* * *

“You ever heard about a guy named Minho?” Jisung whispers as he leans towards Seungmin. 

Seungmin keeps his eyes on the professor, “Don’t think so, why?”

Jisung leans in closer, “I think whoever that guy is has a thing with Hyunjin.”

“Dude, are you stalking him?”

“What? No!” Jisung harshly whispers. “They were talking about it in my room and I’m just making healthy observations. It’s a vital career skill that I’m practicing early on and with this information I’m passing it onto you to further analyze. Social Science bro.”

“You want to fuck him so bad it makes you look stupid,” Seungmin says, ignoring Jisung’s entire spiel.

“Yeah,” he admits. “That doesn’t bother you right? I know last night was kinda—”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Seungmin flips to the next page and Jisung follows, not really paying attention to the lecture when he’s already hyper fixating on another topic entirely. “I mean, I’m 100% okay with just being friends.” He gives Jisung a sardonic smile.

“How sweet of you,” Jisung returns the same expression, eyes exaggeratedly turning into half crescents. 

“But if you really want to know more about Hyunjin, why don’t you just go ask your roommate?” Jisung smooths out a crease in his textbook page while considering it. That’s not...a bad idea.

* * *

Jisung was sitting cross-legged on his bed with his Intro to Gender Studies textbook when Jeongin returned.

“Welcome home, my beautiful and radiant new friend!” Jisung practically bounces with each word, casting him a big smile. “How are you?”

Jeongin pauses right at the doorway despite him previously struggling to carry in a large laundry basket. Jisung can spot the restraint of Jeongin cringing out of disgust by the way the corners of his lips twitch. 

“Why are you talking like that?” Jeongin speaks slowly, cautiously. 

“I’m just greeting my favorite roommate.”

“I’m your only roommate,” Jeongin, after recovering from Jisung’s dog-like energy, finally makes his way to his side of the room and dumps his clothes onto his bed. With his back facing Jisung he asks. “Did you leave food out again? 

“No! I’m a man who learns from my mistakes.” 

“Then can you clean the bathroom then, it’s your turn.” Simple yet impactful that it makes Jisung grit his teeth. Jeongin doesn’t hesitate in making requests sound more like demands. 

“...Sure, I’ll get right on that.”

“See?” Jeongin says as he stuffs a towel into one of the storage drawers under his bed. “I’m turning you into a good housewife already.”

Jisung held up his textbook. “That’s probably offensive in some way.”

“Don't go social justice warrior on me just because you went to your Gender Studies class once, Jisung. How was last night by the way? You were snoring like a damn cave troll.”

“Sorry,” Jisung says. “It was all right. I made out with Seungmin, I think.”

“He’s the floppy-haired guy, right?” Jeongin shoves the rest of his laundry to the side and lets himself fall face down onto his bed. “He’s hot.”

“Yeah.” Jisung tried to come up with a way to make this conversation about Hyunjin. ‘Speaking of hot people’, maybe? He settled for: “Hey, who’d you have over this morning?”

Jeongin rolled onto his back. “Just a friend. We’re in Renaissance Art History together and he needed to borrow a textbook. We tried not to wake you up.”

“What’s his name?”

“Oh, you probably don’t know him.”

“Maybe I do,” Jisung says as he rearranges himself on his bed. Laying on his side while resting his head on his right hand, he challenges, “I know a lot of people.”

Jeongin pushed himself up onto his elbows. “He’s one of those classic socially awkward art majors, and he lives off-campus. Trust me, you don’t know him.”

“Try me.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Jeongin!”

“Jisung!” He mimics.

He wasn’t going to budge, then. Damn it. Time for a roundabout approach. “I thought Renaissance was a two hundred level,” Jisung says.

“Yeah, but I’m smart as fuck so I’m taking the Intro course and this one at the same time. Any other questions, Inspector Han, or am I free to take a nap?” 

Fuck. Jisung shook his head. “Cleared of all charges. You may proceed.”

“Thank you.” Jeongin grabs a pillow as he flips onto his side before burying his head on top of it.

* * *

When Jisung runs into Hyunjin, it’s mostly by accident. Mostly.

Jisung’s obsession over him has lessened by a fraction over the course of the month, it’s hard to yearn when he’s got essays involving dead authors and projects that lets his Psych teacher further convince Jisung that he might have a neurodevelopmental disorder. But when he notices the Art History textbook left on Jeongin’s desk, when said boy is already on his way to class, Jisung doesn’t hesitate. 

“Jeongin!” He yells, running to catch up to him. Jisung stretches out the book in his hand as he pants heavily. “Your book.”

Jeongin turns only to slowly blink at it, as if he’s not fully comprehensive of what’s going on right now. He looks like shit, bags taking a temporary residence under his eyes, face an odd pale color and all. 

“Ah.” He finally says, sleepily taking the book out of Jisung’s hands while absentmindedly tugging Jisung’s right arm close, head snuggling against Jisung’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Uh,” Jisung starts, and can only adjust his head away from the head of hair that blocks his vision. His neck is at an awkward and painful angle to compensate Jeongin’s height as he says: “You’re welcome.” And pats his head for good measure. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to class.”

“Shouldn’t you be in the Social Science building, doing social things?” Jeongin asks, struggling a bit to match the pace Jisung’s walking at. 

“I got class in 2 hours,” Jisung says. “And you’re a social thing.”

Jeongin shakes his head, and all it does is make Jisung’s neck feel itchy. “I don’t feel very social right now. I miss my bed.”

“You’ll find a replacement for her soon,” Jisung assures. “A desk, a window sill. Maybe one day you’ll graduate to someone else's shoulder.”

It’s only until they come to a stop in front of an auditorium that Jisung asks, “This is where you’ve got Art History?” Only a handful of people are inside, and he stomps down on the vague twitch of disappointment that was threatening to rise in his gut. 

“Yeah, we got upgraded from a smaller lecture hall. I’m gonna go turn this in,” Jeongin holds his essay as if it were a dead thing. “I’ll see you later.”

Jisung lifts a hand in farewell before he watches Jeongin’s retreating figure. He was about to step aside when someone shoulder-checked him so hard he reeled back, elbow grazing the wall.

“Jesus Christ,” the guy snapped before Jisung could say anything. “Watch where you’re going.”

“Wha— Dude. You’re the one who crashed into me,” Jisung says, turning to glare at a familiar face before dropping his scowl at the realization on just who he bumped into.

Hyunjin paused in the doorway of the auditorium. A flicker of recognition flared up and died back down in his eyes.

“You got a problem?” Hyunjin asks.

Something in his voice, a certain menacing coldness, made the hair at the back of Jisung’s neck stand up. Hyunjin doesn’t even let him respond as he’s already heading inside the auditorium, leaving Jisung standing at the entrance like a damn loser. When Seungmin asks why he’s in such a bad mood during class later on, Jisung doesn’t mention about the mile run in the crisp, cold morning, missing breakfast, and realizing that sex on wheels is a complete asshole. Instead, he blames it on a non-existent hangover.

* * *

This time it actually is an accident. 

Jisung manages to snag a weekend gig at the university’s local pizzeria, and he’s already got at least four people he can rely on to order out and occupy at least three hours of his time. Seungmin orders a lame pepperoni pizza and doesn’t even tip; Felix gets a large supreme that Jisung manages to finish two slices of before getting his greasy fingers back on the handles of the company’s moped; Changbin, who he’s been sitting next to in Stats, buys an all veggie pizza, and Jeongin bites down on some cinnamon twists and a chocolate lava crunch cake. Four more hours left of his shift, and he picks up another, meticulously instructed, delivery about 30 minutes from his location that’s got a massive tip. Jisung grabs it the second his manager sends out a text to the group chat. It isn’t long before another person claims for it, some guy named Juyeon, and sends a spiral of texts to Jisung’s private number asking him to switch. The dude drives a Tesla, he can live without the 20 dollar tip. Jisung sends a ‘lol too late’ before he blocks the number. 

Jisung parks the moped out on the curb before he walks up to the estate. It’s probably one of those frat houses by the way it looks, at least four stories high with several balconies in front of large glass windows. The long pathway Jisung has to walk down to get to the door is surrounded by the greenest grass he’s ever seen on both sides. Surprisingly, not a single stray beer can or camping chairs laid randomly out on the lawn. Jisung furrows his eyebrows at the delivery instructions on his phone. Leaving the pizza box on the end table near the door sounds reasonable enough, but taking off his shoes and leaving them out by the doorway? Pull the moped into the driveway? He pockets his phone and rings the doorbell, the two star rating for not following directions won’t particularly have an affect on Jisung anyways.

He rings the doorbell before the noises of rhythmic, nimble footsteps come through as if they were gracefully treading down the stairs before the door swings open. Jisung’s heart kind of stops. Damp hair, a bare torso, and a towel hanging onto the man’s hips for dear life while exposing the taunt of a defined v at his hips. Hyunjin emerges from the threshold of his home when he might as well have stepped straight out of a dirty magazine, and Jisung desperately wants to put his sticky fingers all over that spread. 

Hyunjin crosses his arms, and it makes Jisung snap out of his gaze on his chest. “You’re not Juyeon,” Hyunjin says.

Jisung blinks. “And you’re not—” He quickly grabs the order and squints at the name printed on the bag’s sticker label that reads the initials H.H. Fuck. “Uh...that’ll be $15.48.” 

Hyunjin unwraps his arms and decides to grab at Jisung’s wrist instead, pulling him in and closing the door behind them. Too afraid to look behind him and face the man of his wet dreams, Jisung scopes around the place to view the crystal like decorations and the oddly shaped but undeniably expensive pieces of furniture spread throughout the house. 

“Why are you following me?” It’s the same coldness that Jisung had heard from their last encounter, but instead of feeling scared, Jisung’s just confused.

“What?” He turns around and gestures at the package he’s holding. “I’m delivering pizza.”

“That Juyeon was supposed to deliver. No one accepts my orders because of my delivery instructions except for him.” Hyunjin explains, grabbing the box out of the other’s hands. A minute and 43 seconds pass, and Jisung realizes what’s going on.

“Is this a booty call?” Jisung asks. He isn’t usually the one who kinkshames, but he’s got to question people who go above and beyond to pull this kind of stuff off. Even this realistically. “That actually explains a lot. Isn’t Juyeon like, six figures?”

“Answer my question. Why are you following me?” Hyunjin takes a step forward, to which Jisung instinctively moves back. “I know you asked Jeongin about me. You were outside of my classroom two days ago, and now you’re showing up at my house when everyone knows Juyeon’s my regular.” 

Jisung’s back hits the wall. “Well, when you put it like that,” He mutters, but quickly shakes his head afterward. “But no you’ve got this all wrong. Well, okay, I’ll admit that I asked Jeongin about you, after you showed up at my room twice, may I add. But I was just interested. No ulterior motives whatsoever. The other day was, like, fifty percent coincidence.”

—all right, thirty percent, maybe. Or ten. But Hyunjin didn’t need to know that—

“And I just got this job, all right? Jeongin even told me you lived off campus.”

Even though Hyunjin is an asshole and Jisung would rather not look like a creep, he’s already regretting the fact that he’s establishing no interest in what this...whatever _this_ is.. Because he still does. Like, 100% would definitely jump his bones, but he supposes he’ll just have to let this one go. 

Hyunjin observes Jisung quietly before saying: “There’s something you’re not telling me. Everytime we run into each other you always have that dumb look on your face.”

Jisung splutters. But when Hyunjin tilts his head, accentuating his long neck, Jisung’s sex induced brain can’t help the thought of sinking his teeth into it. He audibly swallowed.

The scrunch in Hyunjin’s brows smoothen out slowly. He smirked, still fluidly moving closer. “Oh,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching further upward. “Oh, so that’s it? Seriously?”

Hyunjin leaned in. “So you must’ve heard about the stories,” he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of Jisung’s ear. “You heard that I’ve been overseas, that I’ve been passed around or showing myself off to any stranger that can spend a pretty penny. It intrigued you. Made you wonder what it’d be like. What I’d be like.”

Jisung hesitantly nods like an awkward virgin. At least, Hyunjin reminds him that he’s not too far from one.

“Now I’m just wondering,” Hyunjin says quietly. One of his hands inches up the side of Jisung’s neck, thumb tracing his jawline. The other was sliding down Jisung’s chest, slowly, down to his stomach before slipping under his shirt and flattening out against the skin there. Hyunjin’s hand was warm, callused, maddening. Fingertips hooked into the waistband of Jisung’s pants. “What makes you think I’d let you fuck me next?”

Then, Hyunjin chuckled at the sound of Jisung’s waistband snapping against his skin and pulled away.

“It’s best for you if you stay away from me,” Hyunjin walks off to the side to grab his wallet, pulling out a 50 dollar bill and tucking into the pocket of Jisung’s work shirt. “I mean it.”

Jisung blinks profusely before slowly unsticking himself off the wall. He dazedly makes his way to the front door, looking back briefly to see Hyunjin smiling and waving farewell, and finally exits the premises. 

**From: Jisung**

**Sent: 05:24**

Felix can u phone my manager for a personal emergency

I just popped a rlly bad boner and need to leave early

* * *

“I don’t like him,” Felix swings the paddle gently as the ball steadily passes over to Jisung. “You got cornered, threatened, and sexually intimidated and you expect me to give you a high five over it?”

“He didn’t sexually intimidate me,” Jisung corrects. He barely manages to find an angle for the incoming pass because while Felix is good at slow and steady, Jisung is used to fast and powerful. “I told you, I consented. Enthusiastically.”

Hits a little harsher now. “I don’t think nodding your head would be considered explicit consent.” Felix is looking at him like he's about to give Jisung a scolding. And well, okay, he sort of deserves one. And he's sort of going to get one. But Felix could at least save this after they’re having a serious table tennis match. “Besides, I think you’re confusing him clearly stating he’s not into you with a challenge, dude.”

“He’s telling me he’s not interested while feeling me up, seriously?” The rhythmic _tap tap tap_ increases in pace like a metronome. Felix bites the inside of his cheek, and Jisung gives in. “What do you want me to say Felix?”

“Nothing,” Felix lets out an exasperated sigh. “Nothing at all. I already know how this is going to play out anyways.”

“Should I start shaking you like an 8-ball then?” Jisung chances on a hard hit. “Oh magic sphere, are things gonna go to shit if I keep pursuing Hyunjin?”

The shots come at rapid fire, eyes are glued onto the consistent pattern but Jisung feels like he’s almost about to go cross eyed. Felix delivers a swift hit with a full backhand. Jisung completely misses it. “The signs point to yes.” Felix says. He tosses his paddle onto the table before walking to Jisung’s side and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Just forget about him man. Especially on next Friday, Alpha Kappa Psi is holding a party.”

“I’m not in the mood for parties,” Jisung sulks. “All I’m gonna think about is my Anthropology project and Hyunjin’s ass.”

“Trust me, I won’t even give you a spare minute to think about any of those things.”

* * *

Felix is a conniving liar. They should have had some sort of discussion about what their plan was for leaving the party because Jisung is thinking it’s probably time to go. He hasn’t seen Felix in over thirty minutes though, and he isn’t answering his phone. Jisung’s been wading through the web of bodies for an hour now, avoiding anyone who’s been trying to lay their hands on him or drag him into some party game. That’s when he sees Seungmin going up the stairs. Jisung calls out to him, but it’s probably drowned out by the thudding bass and array of shouting throughout the house. It doesn’t matter anyways when he realizes that Felix is the one following behind him as they book it to a room. 

Figures. 

Jisung retreats back into the crowd that’s separating him and the front door, thinking that's enough of people, especially drunk people in general, for a great long while. But Jisung takes a wrong turn, one person away from going out into the cold night air and instead, stumbles upon Hyunjin leaning against the wall in the hallway. Looking like ardour incarnate, like sweaty sin and spirit. It’s at the exact time Minho, who looks like he’s been talking to Hyunjin all night, decides to leave. Hyunjin doesn’t watch him go, just has his arms crossed as he’s staring down at the floor dazedly. Even though Jisung had just gotten there, it feels like he’s intruding on something, sticking his nose into a situation that he probably doesn’t want to get involved in. When he backs up, though, he bumps into a guy who tosses an offhand, _Fuck, sorry,_ over his shoulder before leaving.

Hyunjin raises his gaze to the commotion, and surprisingly he doesn’t look like he’s pissed at seeing Jisung again. Pretty much the opposite, really. “What a surprise to see you again.”

“I was just leaving,” Jisung begins, pointing a finger in a direction that he hopes where the front door is at. Hyunjin is walking towards him, placing his arms around Jisung’s neck gracefully. His eyes are glimmering down at him, smoking at the edges where the hiked pupil meets the smoldering color of the iris. 

“That’s if, if you don’t want me to.” Because this is a fucking opportunity if Jisung has ever seen one. Because he's really got to stop being a wuss about this whole thing. “You’re not drunk are you?”

Hyunjin laughs through his nose, “I’m the most sober I’ve ever been.” And then he closes the gap between them.

Jisung’s eyes flutter shut, and Hyunjin’s hand moves from his neck to gently cup his jaw. In return, Jisung’s other hand moves to his waist to push his body closer, moving his lips against Hyunjin’s fast and harsh with slow and deep.

Jisung rolls his hips subtly and swallows down a groan from Hyunjin’s throat before lapping his tongue in his mouth. He can feel Hyunjin’s cock growing out against him and his fingers fidget against Jisung’s neck. They pull apart, Jisung mildly delirious and Hyunjin clearly no better.

“You're not bad,” Hyunjin tells him.

“You're incredible,” Jisung breathes out. Hyunjin blinks, and it’s the first time Jisung sees him at a loss for words.

There's no grace to how Hyunjin pulls Jisung away from the crowd and the hallways. They head down the stairs and into a relatively quiet basement. Hyunjin stops at a door before peeling up a corner of the old carpet in front of it to retrieve a key. 

“Don't tell anyone,” Hyunjing says while unlocking the door. “I'm not allowed in here, and you're _really_ not allowed in here.”

It’s a secret, but Jisung doesn’t feel like it’s the room Hyunjin’s talking about. They could’ve gone to any of the rooms upstairs, and Jisung’s pretty sure they’re up to what would be Hyunjin’s standards than some locked away room in a basement. Hyunjin wants whatever is going to go down tonight between them unknown to the general public, and Jisung doesn’t get a say in it when Hyunjin is pulling him in. 

Hyunjin is saying something, something about pulling out Jisung’s cock, heading to the bed in the center of the room, or any mundane dirty talk but Jisung isn't listening. Not until he’s snapping out of his self-doubts and overanalyzations and pushes Hyunjin’s back against the shut door. It takes Hyunjin off guard if his stutter and small squeak following after is anything to go by. 

He’s grabbing at the underside of Hyunjin’s legs and moving them to wrap around his waist, lowering Hyunjin at an angle so that Jisung can finally mouth at his neck. 

“Wait,” Hyunjin says, hands resting at Jisung’s chest but doesn’t push away at it. Jisung licks a stripe over his ear and Hyunjin whines for the first time that night. “Jisung, shit.” 

“I’ve been wanting to do this,” Jisung swivels his hips against his ass, Hyunjin’s waist dragging along in circles with Jisung’s motions and grips at his shirt tighter. “Fuck—since the moment I saw you.” 

“Jisung please,” The back of Hyunjin’s head thuds against the door, neck rolling to the side when Jisung dives right back to his neck. “Just take it off. I need it off, I need—”

Jisung’s unbuckling Hyunjin’s belt in an instant. He slowly places Hyunjin’s wobbly legs down before turning him around like a ragdoll and his elbows rest against the door. Waist bare, right hand coming to push Hyunjin’s blouse up and the other slowly tracing down every inch of him. Hyunjin's breath stutters at the feather-like touches until Jisung pulls back to wet his fingers and circles against his left nipple. Hyunjin jerks away at the sensation and lets out a drawn out mewl while unintentionally squirming his ass against Jisung’s hips. 

“God you’re fucking perfect,” Jisung unzips his own jeans with his right hand and pushes it down along with his boxers to fist at his cock. “Is there—”

“Lube is in the back pocket of my pants, no condom though but—ah,” Jisung’s warm, lubed finger rubs against the rim, and Hyunjin lets his head hang low under his arms, more pathetic whining before he continues: “It’s fine just put it in. Inside me. Please come inside.”

Jisung can't resist, slipping a finger inside all at once just to hear Hyunjin’s startled gasp, just to feel the way that beautiful body clenches for him, hips rocking and hands clutching, trying to take more. He fucks his finger up into Hyunjin, slick and hot, pressing at his rim with the pad of a thumb to spread him open that much more. Jisung finally brings the hand tweaking his nipples to stroke Hyunjin’s dick, palm occasionally rubbing harshly against his tip. Hyunjin convulses at the movement and it's enough of a distraction for Jisung to add another finger.

“Jisung I’m losing my mind right now,” Hyunjin rasps out, and Jisung almost wants to laugh at the way Hyunjin manages to sound annoyed while being fucked out at the same time. “I don’t need another finger I need…” He trails off. 

Jisung immediately takes his hand off of Hyunjin’s cock to grab his face instead, uncaring about the pre-cum getting all over his cheek, his mouth. “You need what?”

Jisung sees Hyunjin’s ears go red in real time, and he moves Hyunjin’s head to face him. He uses his index and middle finger to wipe up some of the cum to shove it into his mouth. Hyunjin sucks on them instinctively. 

“Your cock,” Hyunjin says it as best as he can when Jisung’s fingers try to go further down his throat. “I need your cock.”

“Shit,” Jisung’s breath fans out against Hyunjin’s face. Fingers slowly pull out and it's only until then that he notices Hyunjin’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other uncomfortably. He has enough mercy to pull Hyunjin away from the door to put him in a kneeling position. Hyunjin’s head and hands lay on the floor in a disarray and lets Jisung pull his waist up until he manages to stabilize his lower body on his knees. Jisung wishes he could have this image of Hyunjin’s legs being spread so far apart and his cock dangling in between them pathetically forever. 

Jisung sinks into him easily, his own breath catching from the tightness. Hyunjin moans long and low, back arching like he’s never been this full before. Jisung likes that, fucking adores it actually, and then he grabs Hyunjin by the hips and pushes all the way in until his thighs are right against Hyunjin’s ass. He’s practically sucking Jisung in at every single deep, measured thrust.

So Jisung’s hips still, rolling into Hyunjin at an animalistic speed to force his cock in deeper, balls just resting against Hyunjin’s ass. 

“Don’t,” Hyunjin’s once limp hand goes flying to hold onto Jisung’s arm behind him. His moans come out in staccato. “Too much. You’re so deep. God, shit.” Jisung decides on shallow thrusts, then, sticky sounds of skin slapping against skin and Hyunjin’s voice keeps amplifying. “Fuck how are you—” Hyunjin sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “I can’t come first.”

“Yes you can,” Jisung grunts. He grabs at Hyunjin’s forearms and pulls them from behind, causing him to drive in harder and faster that it has Hyunjin’s head bobbing up and down. “You will.”

Jisung can feel the lube mixed in with his pre-cum drip down from his balls and onto the floor. It makes him realize that he's going to cum inside of Hyunjin. Paint his walls white and fuck it inside deeper until he’s dry. He thinks of Hyunjin’s usual one-night stands on expensive furniture, of the billion-dollar-made men he probably has laid with, only to be replaced by a college freshman who’s fucking him on the sticky basement floor of a frat house. 

He voices that out to Hyunjin right against his ear and he whines. Jisung can feel him tighten around his cock and fuck, the validation that Hyunjin likes this scenario just as much as him…

Hyunjin comes without a warning, legs shaking violently to compensate for his silent orgasm and the only way he’s being kept upright is by Jisung’s grip on his arms alone.

“Hyunjin,” He grits and drives his cock as deep as he can when his orgasm tears through him, spurting hot white inside and feeling it envelope his cock within the tight space. 

He slowly brings Hyunjin’s arms down before he pulls himself out. Jisung lays on top of him until Hyunjin’s legs fall soon after, and Jisung kisses the back of his neck. “Hey.”

“Hm.” Hyunjin grunts.

“You can't fall asleep, not here.” Jisung shakily gets on his knees. “Come on.”

Hyunjin whines in protest. “I can’t move. Do something about it.”

Jisung scoffs. He barely manages to gently roll Hyunjin over on his back and carries him bridal style. Not gracefully, though, since Hyunjin’s long limbs awkwardly dangle from Jisung’s hold. He can only shuffle awkwardly to the bed in the middle of the room and finally lays him out. He spends a good rest of the evening fetching towels and water from upstairs and thankfully no one really bats an eye. Once he’s done cleaning the both of them up, Jisung is left standing there while eyeing Hyunjin peacefully sleeping. 

Jisung considers sleeping next to him, another considers heading back to his dorm alone. These two options, though simple and nothing more but a regretful decision of a single night, is a fork in the road that corners Jisung to decide in two different pathways in the form of this:

  1. Since he knows that Hyunjin would want nothing to do with him after this, would rather the both of them pretend that nothing had happened at all, Jisung could carry on the next few years of his college life without being strung along in Hyunjin’s antics.
  2. Knowing something won’t happen is one thing, hoping it might is another, but wishing that things might change? That’s probably where Jisung starts to get his feelings hurt. Ultimately, it would leave nothing but a trail of uncomfortable and complicated situations behind.



Too bad Jisung has a penchant for uncomfortable and complicated. 

Jisung neatly folds Hyunjin’s clothes and places them on the floor just beneath Hyunjin’s side of the bed, and piles his own skinny jeans and jacket on the other. Jisung slides into bed with his t-shirt and boxers on, and faces the opposite way from Hyunjin. He’ll let tomorrow morning figure out the consequences for now. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shouldn't have taken this long to write an update but sims 3 was lookin kinda sexy these past few weeks

Back in Seoul, Hyunjin promised his sobbing mother and his indifferent father that college was going to be about studying and networking. Back in Busan, Hyunjin promised his friends, who now live their sexual lives vicariously through him, that college was going to be about attending the hottest parties and sleeping around until he lands the complete goldmine. These promises performed a perfect balance of things, the ying and yang, darkness in light or some other bullshit. If you want to ace your classes, get your ass ate in between lectures; a simple motto that shaped Hyunjin’s time during his summer program when he wanted to get ahead a few credits. 

But now? Now the summer feels like it was lightyears away from Hyunjin being three months into his first semester and having nothing to show for it. Hyunjin had a strong streak of body counts that got put into a screeching halt when he was sure that getting into bed with Minho was his peak. They hooked up in one of Minho’s condos in Boston before he took Hyunjin out for, quote, unquote,  _ the _ best Lobster Thermidor that he’s ever had, and Hyunjin knew that it was going to be the budding of what could be a beautiful, long term relationship.

Until Minho had flat out refused to become exclusive and that somehow enacted a dry spell on Hyunjin (if dry spell meant hooking up with the same two people over and over again, which,  _ still _ sucks).

So now, he’s walking across campus with Jeongin to a party at Juyeon’s house, dressed to kill but not sure if he’s capable of the killing. They aren’t early, so most of the crowd is already drunk and dancing in the middle of the living room where all the furniture is pushed to the corners. Purple led lights draped in every corner of the house providing the only light other than the glow of the kitchen. Drinks get passed through the crowd like an assembly line, and Hyunjin is left with two cups and no one around with empty hands. He takes occasional sips throughout the night and unintentionally slips away from the web of bodies. It's when he's leaning on the wall in the space behind the imposing stereo speakers, looking out over the quaking mass of people, that Minho approaches from behind. 

"Hey," Minho says, Hyunjin returning the greeting. "You gonna drink that?" He continues after they've faced each other, gesturing to the filled cup in Hyunjin’s left hand.

While Minho takes large gulps from the cup, Hyunjin drops his head into the curve of Minho’s neck and breathes in, presses his open mouth there quickly, wet and warm like his beer. "You smell good," Hyunjin compliments.

Minho hums, "Chan’s cologne," around the lip of the plastic cup.

It's obvious, then. The fading flush of Minho’s chest and the mess of his hair and the musk—of not only cologne but of sweat—lying underneath his clothes. Hyunjin gets it now, where Minho’s been, and why he’s been walking so languidly when he’s probably been fucked into next week. 

Gets it enough that he finally says, “We need to talk.”

Minho pulls away. “I thought my answer about this was pretty clear,” because he doesn’t need an explanation of what this ‘talk’ is about. It’s the same argument that’s been passed between them back and forth a thousand times. “We can’t just date after everyone you’ve slept around with.”

And it’s been a thousand times where Hyunjin can’t understand that logic. “Hypocrite,” the word is ludicrously simple in comparison to everything he wants to say.

“Then what does that make you? We both knew what this was.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t say a word as he crosses his arms like a sulking child, and it’s a hollow victory seeing that it annoys Minho even further.

“Then I’ll put this in another perspective,” Minho’s voice is the definition of condescending.“Being wanted without wanting, you know how that feels, right? If we both want that we’ll wear each other out.”

After that, a long silence envelops in between them, almost more deafening than the music blasting right beside them. Hyunjin still refuses to look at him, and his gaze pointed at the floor doesn’t waver at Minho’s retreating figure, knowing that it might be the last he sees of him.

“Fuck, sorry,” A clatter of noises follow along, and Hyunjin draws his attention towards the noise. Of course, it’s Jeongin’s roommate. Hyunjin can’t find it in himself to feel annoyed, but he does feel his legs moving, feels the skin of the boy’s neck quiver under Hyunjin’s touch. ‘You know how that feels, right?’ Hyunjin does, and wants to thrive on it for the rest of the night. 

But there are moments when Jisung takes him by surprise. The way he kisses, touches, moves with a certain fluidity despite presenting himself as a fumbling loser right in front of Hyunjin a week prior. Hyunjin drags them away from the potential wandering eyes; he’d rather blue ball himself than be caught making out with Jisung. Because Hyunjin had sworn, after getting fucked in Venice into some Mulberry Charmeuse Silk sheets, he would never settle for anything less. But when Jisung slams him against the door, manhandling Hyunjin to the point where his body practically curls in itself to accommodate his height while unbuckling his jeans, suddenly, the whole world starts to revolve around Jisung’s cock.

* * *

Hyunjin’s body is buzzing.

The last time he’s felt like this was paired with a grinding headache and an acrid taste in his mouth, but all Hyunjin gets this morning is a numb upper body and a scratchy duvet underneath him. It’s until his hand wakes up to its senses that he realizes he’s touching something that very much feels like damp skin, so whoever he was banging last night has given him an unsolicited case of dead arm. Hyunjin’s eyes open wide at a sudden clarity. He just laid pipe with Jisung, in some definition of sobriety, and initiated it to begin with. 

Hyunjin has to leave right now. Fast. 

He practically yanks his arm out from under Jisung, who surprisingly doesn’t stir awake and lets out a disgruntled whine instead before shifting to his side. Thank god Hyunjin’s clothes are folded right next to him, legs jamming through his tight-fitting dress pants juxtaposed by the loose blouse he slips right into. He fails to find his socks, but it doesn't really matter. Hyunjin doesn’t look back on his way out, but his mind is still stuck there in bed right next to Jisung. 

Fuck. 

Hyunjin has had a lot of moments where he felt like he had just hit rock bottom—eating leftover caviar in his bathroom after he left a bad blind date, railed coke for the first time on some guy’s laptop track pad—but fucking a guy who matches green sweatpants with pink anime merchandise? He doesn’t think he’d be able to live this one down. 

It’s until he’s speed walking towards the crosswalk that he phones Jeongin. “He lives!” He says, voice too cheery for Hyunjin’s liking.

“Very funny, did you take my car last night or is it still at the garage?” 

“Should be at the garage. But isn’t it a ten minute walk back home for you?” Hyunjin digs at his pockets and sighs in relief that he can feel the metal at his fingertips. 

“If I’m not in my car in the next five minutes, I think I’m gonna have a mental breakdown in the middle of the union. Or rip someone’s hair out.” Hyunjin darts his eyes towards a girl a few feet away from him, who flips her blonde hair behind her shoulder before glancing at Hyunjin judgingly. “Make that two minutes.”

“You want to talk about it?” Jeongin doesn’t say it teasingly like he usually does, and that in itself makes Hyunjin a little less pissy at least. “Or I can meet up with you and we could go somewhere.”

“No it’s fine, I just really need to sleep in my own bed for the entire day.”

A static sigh. “I’ll send takeout to your place then.”

It’s moments like these where he wishes his taste in men involved someone like Jeongin. Jeongin would never make Hyunjin impulsively make the worst one night stand decision of his entire life.  _ And _ he’s considerate. Hyunjin doesn’t let his mind ponder to the fact that the bar must be fucking underground at this point. They talk on the phone until Hyunjin puts his keys in the ignition and drives home. His room is dim-lighted thanks to his black out curtains, the only source of light coming from his attached bathroom with the glass sunroof overhead. He dives into bed, but doesn’t allow himself to sleep when he could torture himself by instagram stalking Minho instead. He scrolls idly through his page. There’s a picture of Minho in an art gallery where they both ran into each other, the latte cup he ordered at a cafe where they decided to hang out in one morning, a mirror selfie of himself in Hyunjin’s bathroom. He unlikes every single one of them in his own small form of cutting ties. 

Maybe he will. 

Hopefully, he will.

* * *

When Jisung comes barreling through the library with one of his friends alongside, Hyunjin’s knee-jerk reaction is to flee the room. His motives conflict with the entire rest of his body when he accidentally bangs his knee on the underside of the table. He can’t help but wince dramatically while rubbing at the injured spot as if it would get rid of the pain.

“You alright?” His classmate asks, and it causes the rest of his group to turn their heads towards him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I forgot that I’ve got a quiz to finish up.” Frantic hands sloppily stack up his papers to stuff them into his bag, then slings it over his shoulder with all of his strength. “Last presentation slide is on me.” Hyunjin couldn’t have left the library fast enough. 

In hindsight, Hyunjin really should have seen this coming. He’s already stumbled upon Jisung, coincidentally or not, several times before their incident. But this campus was huge, two cafeterias, 3 separate unions and numerous winding curves of hallways to walk through; yet Hyunjin always finds himself falling back into Jisung’s orbit no matter how much he doesn’t want to. 

There was one incident in the Union hall when clubs were kicking into gear for recruitment. The Asian Affairs club thought it would be a great idea to make a ‘Friendship game rally’ loosely disguising the opportunity for horny frat bros and eager sorority girls to touch each other. Hyunjin had been walking by the moment it was announced that the selected participants were to find a partner in the crowd, and knew it was too late when he saw Jisung pointing in his direction with a big, adrenaline-rushed smile on his face.

Hyunjin gets pulled into what he thinks is the most excruciating five minutes of his life. It isn’t so much the embarrassment of trying to mimic intimate poses in front of a crowd, but it’s the way Jisung pauses at the realization that he might have to manhandle Hyunjin and has the audacity to ask, “Wait, is this okay?”

Hyunjin mentally blames the heat crawling onto his skin on the sweltering weather even though it’s the middle of November before he responds, “Just get this over with.” 

Lifting Hyunjin up bridal style, maneuvering Hyunjin around with Jisung’s hands on his hips, moving the strands of hair out of Hyunjin’s face during the freeze frames after Jisung’s been tossing him around too fast; Hyunjin barely acknowledges them winning second place when he eyes at the slowly protruding veins in Jisung’s arms. Even when the month begins to shift and cycle, even when it’s almost at the end of the year and Hyunjin is high-strung with exams bearing down on him, it’s like that image has buried itself in the recesses of his mind as eternal spank bank material. 

And this time, Hyunjin is sure that some sort of deity just said fuck it, have some more. 

Jeongin asks him to wait in his dorm room once he’s done with his class in 20 minutes, reassuring Hyunjin multiple times that Jisung won’t be there when he usually comes around late evening. Jeongin couldn’t have been any more wrong. When Hyunjin unlocks Jeongin’s room with the spare key, he walks in to see Jisung in the middle of doing pull-ups on his bunk-bed. “Jeongin,” Jisung grunts out as he continues his reps. “You wanna go grab something to eat once I’m done?”

Hyunjin is trapped in a liminal state when he watches wiry limbs bulge, legs lifted as calves press into the back of Jisung’s thighs. Nevermind that it’s still utterly embarrassing that he’s doing it on his bunk bed of all things, Hyunjin can’t look away.

“Jeongin?” Jisung tries to look over his shoulder mid-pull up and his eyes widen. Sweaty fingers slip off the bar, and he goes tumbling down. Hyunjin winces when he’s not 100% sure if it was Jisung’s knees or his head that hit one of the bars. Either way, it’s gotta hurt. Jisung tries to play it cool nevertheless as he scrambles back onto his feet. “What are you doing here?”

How is it that Hyunjin can still feel himself fill out after witnessing that monstrosity? Maybe he’s hit desperation at his full peak. “Jeongin told me to wait for him here.”

“Oh,” and then Jisung crosses his arms over his chest as if he were a nude damsel in the eyes of a peeping tom. “You’re staring bro,” Jisung laughs, but Hyunjin can see the awkward twitch at the corners of his mouth. A drop of sweat falls from Jisung’s nose and he wipes away at it quickly, but Hyunjin already notices it. It’s sort of nasty how much he’s sweating, even if Jising has the excuse that the heat is amplified by the vents combating the winter air outside. But Hyunjin finds his eyes following the trails of sweat down his neck and it’s taking his entire being not to bury his face in it. 

“Hyunjin—”

“Jeongin’s finished with class in 20 minutes,” Hyunjin interrupts. There’s a long pause and an equally long distance between them before they’re on each other. 

There’s no wince of pain when teeth collide, no lips sliding messily at the early introduction of a tongue; instead it’s plush lips bordering on just being chapped and Jisung gripping at Hyunjin’s waist desperately. They’re moving in the little space they have in the room before Jisung roughly places him onto his lap. While Hyunjin would prefer that they’d fuck on a bed, for once, he’s glad that he doesn’t have to climb up onto Jisung’s bed. He’s only been on a bunk bed once when he was 11 at a friend’s birthday party, and he’d rather not associate that memory with getting pounded. 

Jisung’s lips are insistent, and Hyunjin doesn’t put up a fight to let his tongue inside, unable to stifle the soft moan at the immediacy of the contact. Jisung puts a warm hand under Hyunjin’s shirt, slowly tracing every inch from his sternum to his stomach, sliding past his sides to run a finger on his back in an inconsistent pattern. Hyunjin can’t help but shudder when Jisung’s touch leaves a tingling trace that’s left burning on his skin. 

“We’ve got a time limit here,” Hyunjin says once they finally break apart, and Jisung can only look at him dumbly before he snaps back to his senses.

“Right, sorry,” Jisung slides his chair back before turning Hyunjin around. Pants and boxers shoved down so that Hyunjin’s ass barely peeks out, Jisung rummaging through his desk drawers for lube; when he slides a finger in he asks “You fingered yourself before you got here?”

“What—Ah!” Jisung shoves another finger in. It burns, but the drag of it, the way he curls and uncurls is already addicting.

“You didn’t? But you’re so open for me already,” Jisung licks at Hyunjin’s ear, biting on his lobe briefly before repeating the same pattern. Hyunjin’s shoulder lifts up the same time he tilts his head to the side, a reflex to curl away from the sensation out of disgust without really meaning to, and thankfully, Jisung doesn’t stop. “Are you that excited that your best friend’s roommate is going to fuck you again?”

Jisung’s chest rests against his back, slowly dampening Hyunjin’s shirt with his sweat when he grinds his bare cock in between Hyunjin’s thighs. Hyunjin can’t help but whimper out a “yes” in response. Shame overwhelms him when he pushes back against Jisung’s fingers, “Please.”

Jisung bends him over before settling back into his chair. When he finally pushes into him, Hyunjin groans, elbows resting on Jisung’s desk and head haphazardly close to the underside of the bunk bed. In an instant, Hyunjin takes him to the hilt all at once and Jisung moans ridiculously loud at that, like he just got the wind knocked out of him. He bounces on Jisung’s cock with so much vigour that the chair underneath rocks with them. The sweat that pools in the cradle of Jisung’s pelvis, his pubic hair against Hyunjin’s balls and thighs, and the slap of skin on skin does all the more to amplify how filthy Hyunjin feels. He looks over his shoulder to see Jisung completely red in the face, upper body resting against the back of his chair as he arches up into Hyunjin’s tight heat. Jisung grabs onto the back of Hyunjin’s shirt to slam into him harder, and Hyunjin can’t help the guttural moan that leaves his throat.

“Oh god,” Hyunjin rolls his hips as if Jisung can get any deeper. Hyunjin hasn’t been able to see Jisung’s dick before. He can feel it out that he’s average at the least, but Jisung fucks up into him like he’s got the biggest cock Hyunjin’s ever had, risking long strokes without slipping out of him once. “I’m close.”

“Already?” Jisung teases, but Hyunjin’s been feeling his cock twitch inside him like he’s been holding out for a while now. 

Hyunjin uses his last burst of energy to fuck himself back against Jisung’s thrusts. “Yeah,” Hyunjin says. “Fuck, paint my guts white.”

Before he knows it, he can hear the wheels of the chair roll away as Jisung shoves his body onto the desk. Fingers press onto his face when Jisung rails into Hyunjin like a semi until the both of them are shaking through an orgasm. Jisung doesn’t hesitate to turn Hyunjin’s face towards him and let their mouths collide. It’s not nowhere near on the list of all the filthy things they’ve done or said, but it’s what catches Hyunjin off guard the most. 

Jisung kisses him like he wants to know all of Hyunjin’s secrets It makes Hyunjin want to tell him that when he was eight he went to his first confessional and lied about stealing a bike because he had no sins to confess, sometimes he picks at his scalp when he’s stressed, he’s deeply terrified of needles, and he hasn’t felt like himself since the moment he left his home in Seoul for an American college. He doesn’t say anything because his mouth is preoccupied, but he can almost feel all these hooks attached to fishing line catching on things Hyunjin could say, would say, and tugging, tugging, tugging.

Hyunjin is the first one to pull back. 

His phone rings, and they’re both scrambling to get off of each other. Hyunjin grabs at the tissues on Jisung’s desk and unashamedly wipes and twists the cum out of his ass when he answers his phone. “You here?”  
“I’m at the doors and I forgot my keycard,” There’s a bicycle bell in the distance, static wind of the outside. “Could you grab it for me on your way down? It’s on my desk.”

Hyunjin eyes Jisung pulling up his sweats before zooming to the window, desperately fanning out the air with his hands. Hyunjin wonders if he should tell him that Jeongin isn’t coming up. “Sure,” and the line goes dead before he finally pulls up his pants and pockets his phone (and a few more tissues, just in case). 

He grabs the keycard, and Jisung doesn’t pay attention when Hyunjin’s already at the doorway until he says a short and simple. “Bye.”

There’s no promise of a next time in the form of Hyunjin’s number, no bargaining to stay a little longer; it’s just Jisung pausing mid-fan to look over at Hyunjin with an “Oh, okay. Bye” and a “I’ll catch you later?” Before Hyunjin shuts the door behind him.

  
  


* * *

Winter break passes in what feels like an instant, but the last day before the new year feels like it’s barely inching by. So, another night at Juyeon’s house, because Hyunjin’s a traditionalist and everyone else is just as accustomed to the parties at his place no matter how much they complain. Louder than loud. Hotter than hot. But better than worse. All over again. 

“You’re here early,” a classmate that Hyunjin barely remembers the name of offers him a drink. “Deciding not to hook up tonight?”

Hyunjin forces out a laugh as he accepts it, forces back a wince at what tastes like rum, and forces out a conversation because it’s easier to pretend that he’s having a fun time. “Too early to say,” he jokes.

Hyunjin doesn’t keep track of how a conversation of two became four until there's a whole circle of people adding themselves in and taking up a good portion of space in this small kitchen. They talk sporadically whenever the imaginary spotlight makes its rounds, until everyone points it onto Hyunjin.

“You ever gonna plan another overseas trip?” The girl’s voice squeaks like sneakers on a freshly waxed gym floor. “You know, like Venice?”

Hyunjin isn’t surprised that they’re bringing this up again. It’s either Hyunjin’s hook-up adventures or some sort of mentioning of that infamous trip that people like to prod at. It’s the only way for people to be even remotely interested in him nowadays. Hyunjin takes a sip from his cup. “Maybe for spring break, yeah.”

“Sadie’s not gonna like that,” A guy across from him, earning an elbow nudge like he’s not supposed to mention this at all. “She told a bunch of us to come with her to Coachella and she doesn’t want anyone stealing her invites.”

Hyunjin is pretty sure he doesn’t know a Sadie, but he talks shit about her like they’ve known each other for years anyways. “Go with her to Coachella and then what? Visit the farmer’s market in the morning? I’m not missing out on Brazillian food and surfing to stand in a packed crowd.”

A few people laugh while others insist that they’d tag along with him instead if it came down to it, and while Hyunjin normally basks in the attention, he can’t help but feel indifferent by it. The spotlight shifts, Hyunjin chugs the rest of his drink, and he’s already maneuvering his way out of the kitchen with the excuse of needing to piss. The party hasn’t reached its peak yet but it's on the upswing, louder and rowdier in a steady incline. Bass thumps in Hyunjin’s eardrums.

The bathroom's unlocked and the entire cacophony of the party is muffled by the walls. Hyunjin places two hands on the marble sink before looking up at the mirror and notices his makeup’s a little smudged, strands of hair on the verge of looking too oily even though he took a shower this morning. 

Hyunjin snapped out of his trance, which is a little unfortunate considering it’s the only thing holding him back from a mental breakdown, when a familiar voice says, "Hyunjinnnn, what's up?"

Hyunjin turns only to face a shower curtain and nothing else. He moves it aside to reveal Jisung, sprawled out in the bathtub while he cradles a half-empty bottle of vodka. 

"Have you been drinking that straight?" Hyunjin asks.

Jisung looks down and studies it for a moment, before he says, "Considering how drunk I feel right now? Yes. Definitely."

"Why are you in here?" 

Jisung lifts his knees, leaving enough room for another body to slide into the bathtub, and pats at the space inviting Hyunjin in. Hyunjin accepts it, and Jisung lets him take the bottle of vodka for a swig. "Came in here to piss and didn't feel like leaving. What's up with you?"

The vodka burns it's way down Hyunjin’s throat. Once it reaches his belly it lays comfortably, though Hyunjin is not sure how long that will last. "What makes you think something's wrong?" 

"You just climbed into this bathtub with me and drank vodka straight from the bottle."

"Right," Hyunjin swallows and trails off. In the silence, Jisung takes the bottle back and tucks it into his side. Hyunjin watches him reposition their legs, so that Jisung’s legs are between the frame of Hyunjin’s. His feet rest on the right side of Hyunjin’s lap, digging just shy of too-hard into his hip. “I think I’m starting to hate almost everyone I hang out with.”

“Jeongin?”

“Never Jeongin,” Hyunjin responds immediately. “Just everyone at this party, I guess.”

“I don’t blame you,” Jisung tosses the cap back and forth between his hands. “I don’t think I’d be able to sit through another ‘I was a star high school athlete’ story.”

Hyunjin scoffs before resting the back of his neck against the curb of the tub, enjoying the cold against his burning skin “Yeah, it was pretty fucking annoying.” After a deep inhale and exhale, continues, “It just sucks realizing it though."

“You’re realizing your self-worth,” Jisung shrugs. He tilts his head and overestimates the angle, causing a single strand of vodka trickling down his cheek. He passes it back to Hyunjin. “That part shouldn’t suck, what sucks is that you think hanging out with people like that will make you happy. Just ditch them.”

Hyunjin stares at the popcorn cieling dazedly. For someone who’s drunk on vodka, or at least getting there, Jisung speaks with sober clarity. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Dude, you’re in  _ my _ tub,” Jisung replies, bottle of vodka already back in his hands. 

“This is Juyeon’s house.” 

“Okay but is he currently preoccupying this space? No. This is mine until I get up to go puke somewhere else. Or until he kicks me out.”

Hyunjin closes his eyes and lets out a small, barely there laugh through his nose. “I meant like, you don’t have to comfort me. We’re not friends.”

Hyunjin can feel the bass in the vibrations of the porcelain underneath him, occasionally causing the vodka bottle to rattle against it. Jisung finally breaks the silence. “Can’t we be?”

One minute, Hyunjin is sitting in the bathtub with Jisung and it feels like they’re on their own little island, away from the party and everyone in it. Jisung’s warm on top of him, and Hyunjin’s a little warm on the inside too. Then the next minute, Minho stumbles through the bathroom, swaying on his feet, and Hyunjin instinctively pulls the curtain to hide Jisung. “Oh hey, Hwang. Looking for company?”

Sober Hyunjin might say no, might let himself get swamped by the impulse of antagonism over the fact that Minho thinks he’s still got Hyunjin wrapped around his dainty fingers. But sober Hyunjin is gone, lost somewhere in the sweaty, parted spaces between Minho’s hair as it falls over his forehead, fetching glimmers off the bathroom lights.

So he says, “Yeah,” and doesn’t look at Jisung when he’s sliding his limbs out underneath him. When he walks past the doorway, he lets his eyes wander over Minho’s face, down his body, over his pleased grin as he hands Hyunjin a drink. The bathroom door shuts as they stumble upstairs for a room.

When Hyunjin and Minho end up like this it always starts off slow. No matter how hammered or horny they are, Minho treats him like glass or a delicacy that he’s trying to savor with every bite. It’s Minho worshipping another conquest after breaking it down into pieces but the soft touch of his hands disguise it as affection. This time, at least, all the alcohol will make Hyunjin believe that it is. Minho’s knees pressed against the underside of Hyunjin’s thighs, hand gripping his throat, and Hyunjin clenched his eyes shut. 

Jisung is still in that bathroom, maybe or maybe not. Maybe he's off with his friends who he can be himself in front of or maybe he’s kissing someone who he won’t forget about the next day. Maybe he has better intentions with Hyunjin than Minho and everyone in that fucking kitchen had all combined. Hyunjin’s not thinking about that right now. Maybe later. 

Minho is rocking into him and all he can think about is the sea. The cruise ship. Venice. Minho asks if he can come inside, and Hyunjin let's him.

* * *

The new semester is meant to be somewhat of a restart, but Hyunjin is, and still feels the same. 

He promised himself to never fall into the common college trap that is a ‘routine,’ but he finds himself doing the same things with the same outcome even if his expectations of the results are always different. 

The definition of insanity. 

Hyunjin isn’t sure if he’s there yet, but if he’s going to hook up with Juyeon right now in the back of his Tesla after their boba tea pick up again, Hyunjin thinks he might go a little stir crazy. 

Juyeon parks his car in the space behind an old dorm, and before he can reach over, Hyunjin asks, “Do you still work at that pizza place?”

Juyeon stills, and the cogs in his brain slowly shake off dust before he responds. “No, why? Did you want me to bring the uniform—”

“No, nothing like that. I was just going to ask if Jisung still works there,” Hyunjin has to admit, he hasn’t stopped thinking about him since the morning after that party. When he came to and groggily made his way to the bathroom, the only thing Hyunjin saw was the empty bottle of vodka.

“Oh,” Juyeon sits back in his seat disappointingly. “It was just a gig so he left before me,” he stirs his drink with his straw, occasionally snapping the plastic of the lid with it. “I wasn’t expecting you to ask about him though,” takes a sip, mouth chewing on the tapioca pearls. “Maybe Minho’s right.”

“Right about what?”

Juyeon swallows before he continues. “Minho’s been saying he’s seen you hanging out with Jisung...amongst other things.” Hyunjin raises a brow, and Juyeon just shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. But don’t worry, none of us believed him because you wouldn’t talk to someone like him.”

He places his boba back into the cupholder and waits. Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way he slightly pulls back his car seat and wow Hyunjin really needs to go. “I think I’m gonna go home.”

Unsubtly snapping his car seat back up, Juyeon asks, “You need me to drop you off?”

“No, I can use the walk.”

Out on the streets some hours later, dusk threatening the western sky, Hyunjin manages to finally reach the campus union. He walks around in circles in the meantime, narrowly avoiding a group of joggers and someone rollerblading down the outside halls. It’s a slow night of the coming weekend, and for once, Hyunjin isn’t looking forward to the plans he made for it. He’s got an invite for brunch with girls who’ll either ask if he’s single or try to make a gay best friend out of him, a few games of tennis because golf is not an option after someone broke their club out of anger, and yet  _ another _ party at Juyeon’s for some frat that he’s the president of.

Five months of the same old thing, but what did—or is—he ever going to get out of it?

So it’s easier, deleting half of the contacts in Hyunjin’s phone instead of trying to find another excuse. Another excuse of why it’s okay if he has friends who can only manage superficial small talk, and why he isn’t completely happy after thinking he’s accomplished everything on his bucket list before he even arrived in the States.

And then his thumb pauses on Minho who’s pathetically on his frequent list. 

Hyunjin isn’t over him yet, won’t be over him for a while because above all else, Minho was his first. His first mentor, first aspiration, first something that almost felt like love. Minho was his first heartbreak. It doesn’t mean he can’t take this step by step, and the first one comes in the form of the large, red letters ‘Delete?’. When he confirms, there isn’t any relief. There’s no metaphorical weight lifted off of his shoulders or the deep inhale of new, fresh air when he’s been breathing just fine. It’s just an unsatisfying conclusion. But a necessary one. 

**From: Jeongin**

**Sent: 09:24**

Can you do me a favor

**From: Hyunjin**

**Sent: 09:26**

I’m not sneaking in beer again

Your RA already hates me

**From: Jeongin**

**Sent: 09:27**

Not that

And Chan doesn’t hate you

Tolerates, maybe

Anyways my new roommate sucks and I got sexiled

Pick me up?

Greasy french fries loaded with even more soggy condiments is a delicacy in it’s own that Hyunjin is glad to have finally experienced. Sure a shrimp cocktail or some white truffle toast can hit the spot, but stuffing your face with your bare fingers in a public area gives the added sensory fuel. Hyunjin says it with little shame that this has been their third time eating it within the past week.

“You okay?” Jeongin asks before he shovels a forkful of fries in his mouth. “You’re like, only getting two fries for each grab. With no carne,” he says it like it’s a damn crime.

There’s been a change, a subtle one, in their relationship, and Hyunjin’s just glad to find out that Jeongin is genuinely his friend. That even if Hyunjin’s tangled branches of thorns have dulled to blunt edges, Jeongin doesn’t make a single move to escape it after settling himself comfortably into his crevices.

It’s why Hyunjin can easily say, “I’m sad,” and trusts Jeongin to really listen to him. “In the noun and adjective sense. I wasted a good first half of my school year trying to fit in with people and now I don’t know what to do without it. I mean don’t get me wrong, I know I’m going to be a lot less miserable this way, but I thought things would be...you know.”

"Different?” Jeongin tries. “Even if you don’t feel it, it doesn’t mean things haven’t changed. Hyunjin you—” Jeongin points a fork at him, and Hyunjin tries not to let the fry that plops disappointingly back into the tray grab his attention. “—changed so much since the first day of the summer that I met you. For one, you’re less of a prick,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “And two, you’ve been like an open book nowadays that it’s so easy for me to know what you  _ actually _ need.”

He pulls his phone out from his back pocket, large swipes of his thumb before sliding it over to Hyunjin. In big letters the screen spells out Jisung just above a series of numbers. “Talk to him and fix whatever weird thing happened between you two. Jisung kept asking me about you when we were packing our stuff out.”

Hyunjin’s ears burn as he quickly adds Jisung’s number into his phone. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, but don’t call him now. I’m not about to third wheel a hook-up twice in one night.”

* * *

Four days later, the sound of the doorbell echoes through his house and Hyunjin is all but frozen in his room putting on sweet pea lotion on his legs. He pats one hand dry on the towel wrapped around his head before grabbing at his phone. 

Shit. 

Hyunjin texted him two days ago, and Jisung decides that  _ now _ is the time to give a 10 minute heads up text that he’s on his way over? Hyunjin replaces the towels draped on him with the clothes lying on his bed and bare feet slap against marble stairs. Fuck, he's not ready. He'll probably never be ready.

But he's already got the door open, biting the inside of his lip as Hyunjin tries to give him the most natural-looking smile he can manage given his twisted stomach. This doesn't even make sense. This is fucking Jisung, dweeb extraordinaire, some loser majoring Human Resources and moderates Discord servers as a hobby (nevermind the fact that Hyunjin asked about all of this with Jeongin). All he needs to say is one apology, maybe an added truce, and he’s done with this situation forever.

Outside, a light blanket of snow covers Hyunjin’s porch, small flakes falling from the black sky and clinging onto the tips of Jisung’s hair and his shoulders, making him look like he’s glimmering under the porch lights. And of course Jisung overdresses for what was supposed to be a quick chat. The feeling in Hyunjin’s gut gets worse. 

“Um. Hi.” Jisung says. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin takes a step back while clearing his throat. “Yeah, sure.”

Inside the living room, Hyunjin could feel his heartbeat in his throat, staccato and painful, before he shut the door.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Hyunjin is still facing the door, fingers slowly leaving the door handle and says, “I wanted to say sorry.” Turning around to see Jisung already taking a seat on his couch. “Not just about the party but, for everything.”

Jisung slides his hands on thighs nervously before resting them on his knees, slowly setting his gaze on Hyunjin. “Oh. I honestly haven’t really thought about it much.”

Hyunjin makes way to sit at Jisung’s side before he continues. “I mean I can take a hint about what was going on between us. So when you left, I didn’t take it that bad.”

“You finished an entire bottle of vodka by the time I came back.”

“You checked?” Jisung asks. “I actually lied about drinking the first time you asked me. Someone just left half a bottle in the living room so I nabbed it. And to be fair, you drank most of it.” 

Hyunjin laughs while he turns to face Jisung, eyes locking onto his face steadily for the first time tonight. “I’ll cut you some slack then,” his smile fades, tone a little more serious. “Did you ever think about it though, that something would happen?”

Jisung tilts his head. “Something like what?” And waits for Hyunjin to elaborate. 

“Like you’d end up with something more from me. More than just acquaintances, more than friends,” he says it to punish himself. Rubbing salt into his own wound because deep down, Hyunjin knows there’s no one as idiotic as him to expect something special out of convenient hook-ups and the silent spaces in between them where he and Minho haven’t spoken to each other at all.

But then Jisung says, “Yeah, a few times. Maybe,” and Hyunjin can only stare at him in wonder. 

“You’re a really good guy, Jisung.”

“Oh god,” Jisung cringes, hand coming to scratch his head sheepishly. “You really don’t have to say that, I’ve been friendzoned enough to know how that sentence starts and ends.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, “Not like that, but I mean it,” he doesn’t know when he started leaning in, but he does notice that they’re close. Too close. And somehow getting closer when Jisung darts his eye to Hyunjin’s lips and back on his face in an instant. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

* * *

Hyunjin is barely halfway through pulling his shirt across his head when Jisung ruins it. 

“Hyunjin,” he says.

Hyunjin pauses, hands still grabbing the collar of his shirt from behind “What?”

“Are we—” Jisung motions his hands around the blankets and the pillows. “This is a bed.”

“Nice observation skills,” Hyunjin slings his shirt across the back of a chair in the corner of the room.

“One bed. In one room. A bedroom. Where we’ll be in. Together.” Jisung waits, but Hyunjin decides not to reply. Instead, he undoes his belt and can’t help the small smile creeping on his lips when he Jisung’s eyes track the movement. “Are you sure about this? Should we talk about this? Because I could totally go—”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin’s striding naked across the room before he crawls graciously onto the bed. “Stop talking.” He shoves his hands into Jisung’s hair and kisses him. 

By the time Hyunjin rids him of his clothes, Jisung’s hard, leaking from the tip, and sighs while shifting for better access when Hyunjin wraps his hand around his cock and pumps so, so slowly, casually circling his fingers over the tip, smearing the filthy wetness around.

“Shit,” Jisung squirms, relaxing onto Hyunjin’s bed in the bliss of his touch. “How are your hands that fucking soft?”

Hyunjin laughs. “Exfoliating. And a lot of lotion.” Jisung’s dick twitches when Hyunjin brushes hard just below the tip. “But you’re so wet already I don’t think you could even tell.”

Jisung clenches his eyes shut at the comment, hips shifting to the left and Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate to bring it harshly back down against the bed. Unfamiliar movements, recalibrating his position while he’s towering over Jisung again and again. Hyunjin has never done this.

“Hey,” Hyunjin begins, and gently prods his fingers against Jisung’s rim, circling it with his precum. The shot of sensation whips through Jisung’s spine and Hyunjin can feel him clenching. Hyunjin giggles and pokes again, watching his reaction.

Jisung lets out a strained: “What?”

“Can I—” He pauses, then moves between Jisung’s legs, getting his mouth closer to his pulsing cock. He presses firm kisses along his inner thigh, moving up. “Fuck you...” he murmurs, and Jisung’s head knocks back when he feels the rush of Hyunjin’s hot breath over his hole.

“God, yeah, please,” but his actions are doing the opposite. “Can I blow you first? I’ve kept thinking about it,” never mind the fact that Jisung’s almost dying, blushing terribly at how hard he is, cock so red with the tip so wet. 

All Hyunjin can do in response is make some garbled sound of agreement, watching intently with parted lips as Jisung pushes him back and his thighs apart, licks down his torso and down, down, down, till his face is right fucking there, breathing hot across the tip of his dick, fingers wrapped around the base.

He finally takes Hyunjin’s cock into his mouth. Hyunjin digs his nails into the sheets, feeling his thighs tensing, almost wanting to clamp together, yet wantonly falling apart at the same time.

“Oh,” he grits, unable to stop the subtle roll of his hips, “fuck.”

His cock slides deeper into Jisung’s throat, all that tight and wet muscle twitching with each breath through his nose, clenching when he swallows. Then deeper. Jisung hums and runs a hand up the skin of Hyunjin’s thigh, palm spreading over, hitching up a leg to knead the thick swell of his ass and gently fondle his balls. Obscene, wet sounds as he sucks, loosening his throat and then swallowing around it. Jisung looks up at Hyunjin through his hair, something black and predatory glinting in his eyes as Hyunjin’s eyelids flutter and he moans, so torn between watching Jisung do this for him and letting his head fall back in pleasure. At certain points his hand dips precariously lower, beyond the skin of his balls, sort of touching his perineum but sort of not. 

“Jisung,” his hand can only reach to grip Jisung’s bare shoulder. “Your—”

Jisung hums, pulling off. “What?” Then coyly licks at the tip. “I wasn't done.”

“Get your fingers away from my ass,” Hyunjin huffs. “I’m trying to fuck you right now.”

“That can change,” Jisung says it like he’s predicting the weather forecast. “You’ve liked it that way before.” 

Even if the proposition is intriguing, Hyunjin thinks back to the way Jisung had been squirming under him, igniting a different type of sensation in the pit of his stomach compared to Jisung rocking his shit. Hyunjin grabs the lube on his nightstand. “You’re the one with a wet asshole.”

Jisung grimaces. “True.” 

They fumble around on the bed, both surprisingly rock hard by the time Hyunjin has his face back on Jisung’s ass. Peppers quick kisses around Jisung’s twitching hole before driving his tongue in, followed by a heavily lubed finger that knows immediately what to search for. Jisung back arches off the bed lewdly, hips rutting away from the admittedly odd sensation, but hurriedly rolling back down, 

Precum oozes from his cock, twitching and leaking even more each time Hyunjin gets something just right, the sticky fluid dripping down onto his stomach. 

Savoring Jisung on his tongue, Hyunjin spits, lets it drop, and eyes it sinking in. “Gonna open up for me?” He finally adds another finger and feels less resistance when he spreads them apart, “Gonna let me fuck this?”

There’s a choked gasp from Jisung, knuckles white as he grips the sheets. “Hyunjin please.”

“Hm?” Hyunjin strains his fingers to move at a rapid pace.

So he apparently likes teasing Jisung, sue him, but it’s hard not to when Jisung’s bright red in the face and doesn’t know where to put his hands. He keeps switching to the sheets, to the pillow he’s laying his head on, and now he circles his hand on Hyunjin’s forearm. “I can’t, Hyunjin please I need it. I can’t come like this.”

“Who said I’d let you come?” Hyunjin has no fucking idea where that came from, but it’s not like he regrets it when Jisung whines like he’s utterly miserable from the thought. Jisung shakes his head desperately, mouth opening as if he wants to say something but nothing comes out. Instead he finally opens his eyes and looks at Hyunjin like it’s a silent plea. 

“Fuck,” Hyunjin removes his fingers, doesn’t let his eyes linger on the way Jisung clenches when he starts pushing in.

God, Jisung is so tight , sucking Hyunjin in immediately. He places his hands on the underside of Jisung’s thighs, squeezing them and delivering deep, measured thrusts when he finally starts to fuck him.

“Yeah—Fuck, God—I'm so full, your cock—”The thing about Jisung is that he’s always unnecessarily loud. But now there's something intoxicating about it, his babbling combined with the sound of Hyunjin’s cock entering him, the sopping, squelching wetness of all that lube and his precum. 

He looks into Jisung’s eyes as he asks, “Are you going to come?”

“Yes,” Jisung replies. His back arches so their chests are pressed together, and Hyunjin swallows his moans and pleas. 

Jisung's body tightens up when he comes, and the sudden squeeze draws Hyunjin’s orgasm out of him without warning. He barely pulls out in time, but he comes onto the back of Jisung’s thighs before collapsing on top of him.

“I really don’t want to clean,” Hyunjin mutters into Jisung’s neck.

“Same here,” he replies. And then, “Can I spend the night?”

Hyunjin nods without any hesitation. “Sure. You can even keep the key to my house.” 

And Jisung laughs.

* * *

“Should we talk about this now?” Is the first thing Hyunjin gets hit with the moment he wakes up. Breakfast in bed would’ve been more preferable, or maybe some head. 

Instead Hyunjin is laying on his side trying to ignore the dry cum on his stomach while he eyes Jisung coming out of the bathroom. Jisung looks like he’s been living here for years, the way Jisung’s casually using one towel to dry his hair and another is tied around his waist. And those are Hyunjin’s  _ good _ towels, the ones he keeps in the upper bathroom cabinets so his guests can use the ones on the hanger instead. Hyunjin can’t even be mad about it. 

“It’s probably a good idea that we should,” he watches Jisung waddling his way to the side of his bed. “You good?”

“A little sore, I’ll live though.”

Hyunjin fiddles with a loose strand on the pillow in front of him. “So, what would you want from this?”

“Look, I’m not asking you to call me babe or to change your relationship status on Facebook. I don’t even know what your favorite game is. Do you even play video games?”

“Xenoblade when I was like, 15,” Hyunjin shrugs.

“Huh,” Jisung readjusts himself until he’s sitting criss crossed on the bed, and Hyunjin makes his way to sit up against the headboard. “What do you want, though?”

“I don’t know,” because the only thing Hyunjin can provide for now is the plain truth. “But, I like talking to you. Most of the time.” 

Jisung gives a tight-lipped. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Hyunjins mimics. “But would it be crossing the line if I asked to cuddle?”

“Absolutely not, people who are not intending to have an intimate relationship with each other can totally do that. But you also got cum on your chest.”

When Hyunjin finishes washing up, he dives back into bed and swivels his way under Jisung’s arms while he’s scrolling through his phone. He settles his head onto Jisung’s chest while the rest of his body is sprawled out on the bed, like it’s a bone deep relief. 

Hyunjin won’t tell Jisung now, a week later, maybe even after a month passes by, that he might like him, at least not verbally. So he tells Jisung by tracing circles on his stomach, and Jisung tells him by running his fingers through the long locks of his hair; hoping that they'll both learn to translate their own hidden messages and unspoken words in due time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: [idlesap](https://twitter.com/idlesap)


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